


Change Happens

by RoyalFunky



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bed-Wetting, Diapers, F/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 02:56:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7996003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoyalFunky/pseuds/RoyalFunky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall and the OFC go through the trials and tribulations of the decision to start wearing nappies</p>
            </blockquote>





	Change Happens

I had had enough. There were pee stains on the couch, in the bed, on all of our sets of bottom sheets, on all the carpets. We binned two sets of clothes a day. Niall could not keep himself dry. At all. He didn’t even have any daytime control, for god’s sake. So after much deliberation, I gave him one last chance before I put him in nappies 24/7. One day. He had to prove that he could keep himself dry for one day. 

“Niall!” I called up the stairs, after making breakfast. “Get your arse outta bed and into the bathroom for a wee before you eat your breakfast!” I heard sudden movement upstairs. It’s awake. I heard stumbling and crashing as he tumbled his way into the bathroom with the grace of a baby elephant. Plaster flakes fell from the ceiling. Sigh.   
Five minutes later, I heard the toilet flush and the tap run. Oh good. He must have made it this morning. And he didn’t have an accident in the night. So we’re on the right track. Maybe. He stumbled downstairs oh so gracefully (not), and plonked himself at the kitchen table in his boxers. Charming.

“Morning, love.” I said, putting the breakfast that management, the fuckers, suggested he have, in front of him. Apparently he was too skinny, and he needed to put on weight, so a lovely sausage sandwich was in order for him, with thick, meaty, rich pork sausages to keep his appetite up. Well, I don’t know about your appetite, but after eating that, I don’t think I’d have much of one, do you? I stared at the food in envy. The diet book is *this* close to having a new best friend. The shredder.  
I went upstairs, made the bed and got a bag ready with two sets of clean clothes, four pairs of boxers and three nappies, just in case. 

I suddenly had a brainwave. I wonder if Maura knows anything about this?  
I rang her whilst Niall tucked into his sandwich, and learnt a shocking truth. Niall had never been properly potty trained. (Which isn’t big news if you think about this. He has about the same amount of accidents as a three year old.) 

I sat Niall down in the living room, on his portion of the couch. Which had a wipe clean cover on it. He was wriggling furiously.   
“Go to the toilet, Niall, and then we’ll discuss what I was going to say.” I told him.  
“Don’t gotta go…” he mumbled. Do my ears deceive me?   
“If you don’t go to the toilet right now, you will have an accident and that will mean going back to pull ups, at least.” I told him. He squeaked, got up, and ran upstairs to the bathroom, and just about made it. 

I sighed. Would toilet training really help? Maura said that he was always a wetter and had accidents sporadically all the way through secondary school. I was never going to break the habit of a lifetime, was I? I didn’t think so. When Niall finally ambled his sheepish arse down the stairs, I sat in front of him.

“Niall. I know, you have always had accidents, lots of them, before you met me. I now know that this is because you have not been toilet trained properly, because your father moved out around the age you should have been cementing in the finalities, and it messed things up because you were upset about it.” I said. “Your mother told me so.” Niall looked at me.

“Chloe… wh-what are you saying? There’s something behind all of this, I can feel it… Like a thing… What have you got planned?” he asked.  
“Well, I thought, you might want to give toilet training another shot? Even if it’s not during the night at first and we have you wearing something a little more… protective?” I asked, looking at his face carefully, scanning it for any signs of unease as he agreed. The only one I could see was hesitation, and that was only because he was thinking about it. He nodded. 

“Okay. What… what would I be wearing during the daytime then? P-pull ups, maybe?” he asked, sounding a little more enthusiastic. Perhaps he just didn’t want to deal with wet jeans again, which was becoming a regular occurrence for him. I nodded.  
“If you wanted to, sure. I was proposing a trip to Boots tonight anyway, since we need stuff that we don’t exactly need the public eye to see us buying. Plus, we need groceries. We are running seriously short on groceries.” I told him. He just nodded again.  
I picked up the bag, swung it over my shoulder, and we made our way to the car, where   
Niall got into the passenger seat, and I drove. 

It didn’t take us long to get to the shop, but I still made Niall go to the toilet when we got there, because he’s better safe than sorry. I pushed the trolley around, selecting things from the list. Niall skipped (in a very camp way) around the shop, until I had finished, and I went into Niall’s favourite aisle. The chocolate-and-biscuits-and-niceness aisle. I allowed him to pick out a few things, and went down the stationary aisle, and picked up a sticker chart and a few different types of stickers. When we had finished the shopping, I made Niall go to the toilet again, not that the car wasn’t protected, but still, and packed the shopping into the car. 

After a quick detour to the local McDonald’s so we could eat lunch, we arrived home. I wondered how he even ate a meal like that. His breakfast was huge, and he ordered a huge lunch. But he put paid to it by going for a half hour leisurely jog on the treadmill whilst I put the food away in the cupboards and fridge, and pinned the star chart up to the fridge with a magnet or two. I called him through when I was finished. 

“Niall, I bought a star chart. I know, you don’t care about stickers and stuff, but it’s more to help me keep track of whether a day or night was dry or wet.” I told him. Niall glared at me a little.   
“What do you mean, I don’t care about stickers? Of course I care about stickers!” He said, poking his tongue out.   
“Okay, okay!” I said, holding my hands up. “You care about stickers!” He smiled.   
“Glad we got that across.” He smiled. 

“So, we had a dry night last night…” I said, putting a gold sticker on the top half of the square. “And we’ll see about today and how it goes, okay?” I said, before sending him to go change into sweats or something whilst I cleared some room out under the bed for nappies and stuff. 

Later that evening, we arrived at Boots. I bought all the stuff we needed, and Niall added a dummy into the basket, followed by bottles… Okay then… Whatever. We paid, put the stuff in the car, and went to Costa for a coffee.

Our trouble started about halfway, or ten minutes from home.  
“Chloe, I need a wee!” He whined.   
“Why didn’t you go at Costa then?” I asked.  
“Because I didn’t need to go then!” he grumbled.  
“Well you’ll have to try and hold it. We’re ten minutes from home and there is nowhere for us to stop at all.” I said sternly. I was right, there were no laybys or anything where we could stop for him to take a wee. 

As you’ve probably guessed by now, Niall didn’t make it home. He had his accident five minutes later, and was completely and utterly distraught. He began to sob into my shoulder, and I ended up carrying him into the house. 

“I can’t do this anymore, Mummy!” he wailed. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!” he sobbed. Figuring he was talking to me, I began to rub his back.   
“Ssh, ssh… What can’t you do anymore?” I asked him.   
“Be an adult!” he cried. “I don’t wanna be an adult anymore! I don’t wanna have to think about things like toilets and feeding myself. I want you to do it for me!” he said, hiding his face.

I carried Niall up the stairs and put him on the bed, digging the dummy out and giving him that to help him calm down. I cuddled him, and when he was calm enough, changed him into a nappy. He looked so cute, curled up on the bed, his nappy covered bottom stuck out of the quilt slightly as he shifted, and I snuck down the stairs to fetch a bottle of milk. I took that upstairs, and got into bed with him, feeding him the warm, sweetened milk, before he drifted off to sleep.

Niall, in the future, did become potty trained, to a certain extent. He didn’t have to wear nappies in public, but chose to wear them in private. He never stopped wetting at night, and therefore never lost his nighttime nappies, which I think he was okay with. And he definitely still loves his dummies and bottles. He even acquired a blanket and teddy from other members of the band as they found out about it and wanted to buy him a gift so he didn’t feel like they judged him over it.

And one thing? He’s my little boy. Don’t you dare touch him. My Nialler’s sensitive.


End file.
